


Matters of the Dark at Heart

by orphan_account



Category: Snow White and the Huntsman (2012), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: AU, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 20:23:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fallen god sneaks his way into the castle of an evil queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shadow Play

It started with a play of the shadows, a trick of the light.

Seated in front of her Mirror, swathed in inky feathers and lace, she saw a dark patch on its outer curve, marring its pristine glisten as her henchmen formed from its surface. Her brow furrowed and she sharply raised a hand to hush her servant's baritone intoning.

Ravenna stood, her dark cloak hissing against the cold, stone floor, the train of her dress twisting around her legs as she turned. _There is another here. . ._

She passed her eyes over her chamber, once, twice, thrice the blue sparks traced the contours of the walls and columns. All was still, and all was hers; behind her the Mirror stood stoic, head gently inclined, stiller and quieter than the stone around his queen. She let out a breath and lowered her gaze, slowly turning to face her manservant once more.

Then she saw it again.

It flickered in the middle distance of her vision. A ripple, a shade, her eyes playing tricks. _No, not my eyes. . ._ she thought, releasing a sharp breath.

Ravenna whirled back to face the patch of open space in which she'd seen the intruder. Clumsy, insolent; Icarus reaching toward the sun. 

“Reveal yourself!” she shrieked, eyes darkened by her ire, “Come forth lest I drag you out before me!”

It complied.

And it was not what she expected.

He stepped gently from a patch of space where light and shadows seemed to play cruel games, eyes bright and cast down demurely. His dress was simple, black on black, a gambeson and leather pants to which a dagger clung; his skin shone alabaster and his hands splayed innocently before him, fingers spread, palms supine.

“How is it that you've snuck past my men?” she said, voice heavy with rage.

“As a wolf among sheep.” 

“As a fool among wolves,” she spat coldly.

His lips twitched into a grin and his left hand jerked to his dagger; the Mirror stirred and a spell jumped to Ravenna's fingertips, but he did not draw the weapon from its sheath. Instead he threw it down, letting it skid between them as all eyes followed its path along the floor.

“Then I lay down my weapon to the Queen, a shepherd so fair as to command them,” he said silkily, all charm and raven hair. Disarmed he looked somehow more threatening, too sure in his position and his safety.

Ravenna looked to her Mirror dismissively, and piously it dematerialized back to its enclave, not a word of caution to its mistress. She turned her gaze back to the intruder, eyes narrowing at his grin, “Who are you?”

“I am Loki Laufeyson; Aesir, God of Mischief, Spinner of Lies and Bringer of Chaos.”

At that she was upon him, crossing the distance between them in two long strides, bringing up her right arm as the last syllable fell from his lips. She swiped at his face, ornately crafted claws leaving four deep runs in his cheek. His head was sent swinging from the impact, and as he swayed she drove an elbow into his groin, then another into his back as he doubled over. The Liesmith fell, groaning, grinning. Ravenna pulled up the hem of her dress to plant a foot on his right shoulder and roll him onto his back. She straddled his chest, knees hugging his shoulders, and grabbed his bottom jaw, forcing him to meet her eyes.

“And you've come to take my kingdom from me,” she breathed, tears of rage brimming in her icy eyes, lips trembling and snarling.

The bastard laughed, jaw working against her grip, spilling blood onto the palm of her hand, “I've no use for such petty spoils of war.”

She jerked her hand away from his face and brought it back quickly, her strike sending his head reeling to the left. He hissed, and she grabbed his jaw again, curling her fingers so the tips of her silver claws dug into his skin. She tightened her grip, contorting his expression as she lowered her face to his.

“I am Ravenna, monarch of this realm, and I have eviscerated men for less,” she growled., “You claim divinity, and I can say with utmost surety that it shall not help you here.”

“I seek only,” he choked, struggling to move his jaw against her hand and the unforgiving cut of her taloned grip, “to provide help. Never would I dream- ugh – that I was worthy to receive it.”

Ravenna studied his features, for a moment, mulling over his proposition. Holding his gaze, she loosened her hold on him and straightened her back, finding she preferred looking down at him from afar. She relaxed her legs, resting her full weight on his chest, and brought a finger to her lips. Thoughtfully, she licked a drop of his blood from the tip of her adorned digit, careful not to cut her tongue on its edge. It had a familiar tang to it; the bitter weight of greatness sat at the core of that drop. Her eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise, eyebrow knitting together in shock, “Oh,” she managed to breath.

With a snarl, Loki threw out his chest and rolled to the left, pinning Ravenna's leg with his hip. He loomed over her, rolling to pin her right leg between his, grabbing her wrists and forcing them above her head, a visceral gleam in his eyes. Her eyes widened in fright, they were. . .they were perfect. Blue, blue as his magic had once caused eyes to gleam, and dowey, fragile, impossibly large. He lowered his head, slowly, carefully, and he saw her lips tremble, tongue dancing just beyond them, making half hushed sounds, begging in near silence. So this was Ravenna, undone, defeat admitted, finally confronted by the man who'd best her.

With a roar, she head butted him into a daze, kicking his bulk off of her as he swooned, eyes slipping in and out from under suddenly heavy lids. She sat up and tucked a strand of hair back into her neatly plaited braid, folding her legs beneath herself as she preened. She heard the god's breathing falter and turned to look at him.

Loki was resting on his left side, arm pinned uncomfortably down, hair hanging to cover his eyes. Lamely, he rolled onto his stomach and groaned into the floor.

The Queen repositioned her legs again, sliding over the short breadth of stone between them, she ran her left hand through his hair, unarmed fingertips gliding gently along his scalp. She heard the Trickster sigh contentedly and almost risked a smirk. Ravenna grabbed a fistful of his hair near its roots and lifted his head, pulling a grunt from his lips. She held him there for a moment, letting his unsteady gaze fall to her Mirror, letting him wonder at it before slamming his forehead back into the floor.

The crack of stone against skull filled her chamber, startling the crows that had gathered near the window to watch the handiwork of their mistress. Wearily, she stood and walked towards them, letting them nuzzle their inky heads against her hands. She bid one to hop on her wrist, and brought its ear to her lips.

“Fetch my brother,” she breathed, “We've a guest to attend to.”


	2. Serpent to Serpent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two sorcerers brood and conjure.

The attendance payed to Loki Laufeyson was, put generously, minimal.

Finn was summoned to waken the battered deity with a handful of sharp, burning strikes to his pallid cheeks, instructed to take care in avoiding the unmarred side of his face. Leaving Loki to curse his luck with oafish blondes, the fraternal slave dragged him down to the subterranean dungeons and clasped the castle's weightiest irons on his wrists. Loki kept his silver tongue still, even when the brute spit into his face.

He recoiled at the act, his hand instinctively darting to his face to try and minimize the stinging pain in his eyes. Finn laughed as his arm strained against his chains and his neck twisted to press a temple into the wall behind him as if to use the stone to soothe. He ran a hand through his hair, proud of the action. 

“It'll get dark, soon as we leave,” Finn sneered as he and his men turned their backs, taking the single torch with them, its receding light distorting and lengthening the elegant shadows of a shackled man, “so let's hope your halo shows up to brighten the place.”

The door was pulled closed with a defining thud, its iron bulk colliding decisively with its frame.

Loki sighed, shackles turning to serpents as he calmly lowered his arms, using his left sleeve to wipe the insult from his face. His new pets twisted up his arms, flicking their tongues lovingly over his jaw, slit pupils twisting into phoenix eyes to weep over their master's wounds. The trickster rolled his neck, cracking it loudly over both shoulders to the delight of his hybrid companions. Their tails coiled in joy, scales ruffling eagerly like the feathers of delighted birds at the sound of him moving. Absently, he raised a hand to let them nuzzle at his fingertips, staring into the darkness. With hardly a sigh he carried an incantation on his breath that made their scales gleam, casting warm light into the pitch of his prison. He gave a wave of his hand, and they left his touch reluctantly. They slithered eagerly along the floor, throwing shadows about them, leaving intricate patterns in the dust, weaving temporary tapestries with their paths, shimmering playfully at their creator.

There was nothing for him to see save their dancing.

The room was bare, door blending seamlessly into its frame, devoid of windows, fissures or flaps 'neath which bed pans and meals may be slid. Evidently, he was put there to rot.

The serpents quaked at his ire, throwing their phantom light in frantic paces, spilling their healing tears into the dust, hissing to try and appease the snarling god.

\- - - -

Ravenna sat near her desk, staring out at her palace grounds from the topmost window of her tower. Her chair was spun toward the view, her work spread half finished on the table behind her. The snow had just begun to fall, leaving cobwebby patches at the corners of her realm. It snuck beneath trees as an innocent lodger, coiled near flowerbeds to spend the night. She ached for it to cover the filth and refuse of her abandoned realm, perhaps to bury the peasants it teemed with, snuff the life out of the land so she may move to another on the heels of its glorious coming.

A call of 'sister dearest' broke her from her reverie. Slowly, eyes reluctant to leave the tiny gatherings of snow lest they disappear in the absence of her gaze, she turned. Her brother was behind her, no doubt having called her more formally when he was outside her door or halfway across the room. Terror passed over her heart as she realized she hadn't heard him. She'd been too busy lusting for the end of this wretched realm, so much more tiresome than all the others, so much dirtier, more repulsive. Her hatred for it drained her of fraternal love. Tears brimmed in her eyes.

Finn took six hurried steps around her desk to kneel beside her, placing his hands in her lap, taking two fistfuls of her dress as though they were reigns to stop her crying. “Sister dear what troubles you?” he said as her hands came to rest on his.

“Everything,” she breathed, slowly unworking the knot in her throat, “I ache for winter,” she said, turning back to her window. A crow sat on its ledge, obscuring her view, calling her back to the brother in her lap. Ravenna looked back at him disdainfully, not for his presence but for his intrusion, “Have you need of me?”

Finn hesitated, working the fabric of her dress between his fingers. It was a deep shade of red today, scenes of dragons and harpies stitched into it by deft hands. For a moment he was lost in the thread, trying to find the beginning and end of the scene it displayed, catching a tail here and a talon there. A world of violence and mythos splayed over his sister, his ever snarling sister. He looked up, _my achingly beautiful sister with sinister eyes._

Their eyes locked, and Ravenna could not read her brother's expression. Whether this stemmed from her distracted mind or his blank one she couldn't tell, either way his clutching began to irritate her. So often he forgot that they were not children, that their love had outgrown its infantile bonds, that 'sister dear' had worlds to crush beneath her heal not hems to snatch from sticky palms. Rage flashed in her eyes, and it made his dart to the dark corners of her chambers, as far from her gaze as they could go.

“I- there have been riots,” he choked out, head still turned to face the seam between wall and floor, searching for a gentle response in the stone, “the peasants, they scream for bread.”

“And I scream for carrion,” Ravenna said coldly, “yet they do not oblige me.”

“With this winter coming on they shall My Queen.”

Ravenna threw up her hands, splaying her fingers as they extended to either side of her, bent at the elbows like wings half unfurled. A burning sting wove itself over Finn's hands and he looked down to see a serpent coiled there, black as night and fierce as star fire. He screamed and let go of his sister's dress, legs kicking frantically as he worked to distance his hands from his face. The snake bound his wrists and sunk its fangs into his fingers, spitting venom over the wounds it left.

“AND SHOULD THEY NOT APPEASE ME?” the Queen screamed, standing from her chair to tower over her sniveling brother, “Have I not done enough for them? Have I not kept this kingdom for them? Have I not quelled the urge to see it fall to shambles, to desert its wretchedness?”

Finn whimpered in response, extending his bleeding hands in plea, the creature still writhing in blood lust and joy. Ravenna batted his hands away fiercely, igniting a new wave of ferocity in the beast, demanding an answer. Her brother gave none, screaming and offering his hands again, wordless, infantile, demanding but not articulating. _Pathetic._

Ravenna stepped toward him, letting him bury his face in her skirts, weep into the fabric as she rested a hand on the back of his head. She closed her eyes as the room filled with his wordless sobs, her serpent's final hiss slicing through their repetitive wail as it turned to ash. Blood and pus ran from the gashes in his hands and onto her dress, leaving dark pools on the fine fabric. Silently, stoically, Ravenna wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, this chapter and the next are more character development than action. Curiously I've already begun writing a chapter that's about three or four away from this one, as well as the companion piece to this story. To put it mildly, I'm getting ahead of myself.
> 
> Chapter title is a line from Clive Barker's The Abarat: Days of Magic Nights of War.


	3. Night Walker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki breaks from his cage to wander the palace grounds.

The dust had barely settled from his serpent's writhing when Loki stood.

His knees popped, sending echoes bouncing off the four stifling walls. For a moment the deity stood still, allowing the final waves of his rage to wash over him as his mind began to calm, to placate as a sea sorting through flotsam and jetsam to recover its looking glass surface. He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, sending a puff of frosty air into the gloom. The serpents calmed as well, growing to ten times their size, letting the shine of their scales illuminate every dusty inch of their prison. They coiled soothingly, slithering circles around their creator, scales rustling against the walls, tongues flickering in harmony.

Silently, blindly, the Liesmith stretched out a hand, flexing his fingers as a spell leaped from his tongue. With an anguished yowl one of the snakes' spine burst out of its back to form an ivory throne. Its companion lay loyally beside the remnants of its friend as scales lined the newly formed furnishing to make it shine. An eye opened at the head of the seat, dual pupiled, a crown jewel for a malignant king.

Loki lowered his arm and crossed the room to claim his place. He sunk into the newly formed throne, skin tingling where tendrils of life still burned in its adorned arms. The remaining pet lapped at his hand like a frightened dog. He tickled its nose with an index finger.

“Hush little one, your brother's not quite left you yet,” Loki cooed to the delight of his beast, “he serves me best as such.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath, drawing musty air in from his diaphragm, feeling his chest expand and his mind clear. The stale air bit at the back of his throat and pinched at his lungs, bringing tears to his eyes as he held the vile breath and brought a spell to his mind's eye.

As the Trickster exhaled, his doppelganger knit himself together on the other side of his prison door and opened his phantom eyes with caution.

He saw nothing.

With a weary sigh the newly formed Loki rolled his wrist and muttered to his fingertips, bringing his remaining serpent out from his prison to coil on his arm, back at its original size. The creature's greenish scales shone like gold, casting a steady light onto its master's surroundings. The deity extended his arm, throwing light out farther in front of him. The corridor was as barren as his cell save for crude metal outfits lining the walls every few feet, meant to house torches of executioners of prison guards. With a long, determined stride, Loki set out to explore the castle, grumbling at the tedium of treading along stairs and hallways step by step. Unavoidable, impossible for him to teleport if he didn't know what he'd smack into, but exceptionally irritating. His snake chittered, delighted at the prospect of adventure.

The first place he sought out was the chamber he first snuck into, drawn by the familiar subtleties and changes in the air brought about by powerful sorcery. It took a while to find, and no doubt his search was lengthened by the irresistible urge to make fools of the night guards. They were clumsy and weary, their skills left to deteriorate by the years of compliant suffering Ravenna's realm had given them. As most mortals, they frightened easily and hid their phobias in the black of night. Loki grinned and suppressed his laughter as he cast shadow after shadow on looming walls. Gargantuan spiders, hissing serpents, roaring dragons. One particular guard he called to from the opposite end of a dining room as a fair skinned maiden, nose and cheeks bitten by the newly formed frost, dark hair obscuring her shining eyes. He could have killed that one - he came so willingly, driven by lust to pigheadedness – but decided instead to collapse into a pile of rats just as two oafish arms wrapped around him. The Trickster spent a few nights pilfering, showing terrors to his captors they dared not tell their queen about and stealing the choicest of the kitchen stock. The realm may have been crumbling around them, but Ravenna and those under her care certainly ate well. Lord knows what they fed the livestock or what oceans they crossed to fetch such summer sweet wine, but the Liesmith and his pets dined like rightful kings thanks to his nighttime prowls.

Loki stalled, delighting in the opportunity for such common knavery, so much like it had been. . .in Asgard, though this realization didn't come to sour his fun. Before his exile, when he could step on some very powerful toes and have his royalty to protect him. When the status failed the Odinson never did. . .

And so it happened that through his indulgent mischief, the Laufeyson found his quarry quite by accident. He had taken the shape of a buxom, flaxen haired girl he'd seen the gatekeeper ogle when she came to beg for her family's life. He'd not known what voice to give her, but that proved unnecessary as a wiggle of his hips and a batting of his eyelashes got the hulking brute to chase him up a dozen sets of stairs. Just as the man was getting angry, Loki stumbled into the same round chamber he'd forgotten he was looking for. There, on the furthest part of the wall hung the gold disk that had so captivated the Queen when she and him first met. He stood for a moment, catching his breath, staring and considering his good fortunes.

The Liesmith was distracted by the fall of thunderous footsteps just outside the door. With an irritated sigh he dropped his disguise, dress and golden hair falling away with his breath. It was in his usual form that the guard found him, and the shock was enough to stop him dead in his tracks, apish hands gripping the doorway.

“Hello,” Loki chided, popping out his hip.

The gatekeeper's jaw dropped, “You're -”

Whatever his sentiment, the Trickster was uninterested, with a flick of his wrist and a roll of his eyes he slammed the door shut, crushing ten fat fingers and slamming into a forehead too broad for such little brain mass. The gatekeeper fell backwards down the stairs, creating a loud, dull thud as his bulk slammed into the wall at the stairwell's last turn and slumped onto the floor. Loki raised his eyebrows dryly as he heard him give a final moan.

Slowly, relishing the new found silence, he turned, green eyes catching the glint of moonlight coming off the surface of the enchanted Mirror. It _was **beautiful**_ , perfect, unmarred surface resonating with the power the object held. As Loki drew nearer, he raised a hand to pass along its breadth, and felt the heartbeat of magic pulse at his fingertips. Lustily, he planted a kiss on its center, dragging his tongue across the cold metal. The object bit back at his skin, the sting of a half autonomous beast with sorcery imbedded in its flesh. He grinned and took a step back, watching the coating of frost his lips had left dissipate, whether from the temperature of the room or the Mirror's greedy lip licking he didn't know.

Loki took a steadying breath, focusing on clearing his mind to craft a spell. The words gathered eagerly on his silver tongue, and through his venomous smile he spoke.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall  
Your glittering surface does enthrall.  
Reveal yourself to mine foreign eyes,  
I, Laufeyson, God of Lies.”

The surface rippled, then shook as though the phantom within it was rattling the bars of his cage. After a few more undulations, the crown of its head broke the golden surface and Loki took a cautious step back.

Ravenna's screams pierced the night.

The Mirror dissolved back into the depths of his vessel instantaneously, leaving the thick musk of fear in its wake. Its mistress' shrieks resounded from her bedchambers, rousing drowsy guards and terrifying those already on patrol. Her cry was one of wordless, anguished, betrayal, as if the Mirror breaking the surface of its looking glass sprung cracks in her heart.

Footsteps poured forth from all directions as faithful, terror stricken servants tried to locate their queen by the fractal echoes of her screams. But Ravenna had already gone from her chambers, bare feet hitting the stone of her detested castle steps as she ran towards the cite of her mutiny.

The Liesmith grinned, his smirk cutting across his waxen features like a hot poker through a snow pile, and turned gracefully towards the door. He heard her step over her fallen gatekeeper, planting a heel in his eye to rouse him. He screamed, but his pain was drowned out completely by her ire.

The Queen burst into her chamber, beauty twisted into menace by her unrelenting rage, hair flowing out behind her like a trail of flaxen flame, and caught the glint of mischievous eyes fading into the gloom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By Odin's missing eye this took forever. I'm sorry you guys! I don't think too many people have read this, but I do feel bad for making you guys wait this long! You have my sincerest apologies, but I wanted to write something I was proud of, and that took a long time and many days with no inspiration.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it, and please feel free to send me a message over on my fandom blog (laufeelson.tumblr.com/ask) and tell me to get off my lazy butt and update more often. c:
> 
> Title is a bit of a play on 'Night Stalker', notorious serial killer Richard Ramirez.
> 
> Oh, thank you to lokifier, whose very kind message prompted me to finish this chapter, since in all honesty I'd considered abandoning this. Means a lot to me darling, thank you. <3

**Author's Note:**

> The idea stemmed from tumblr user lokifier's lovely edit of Loki and Ravenna. And it would seem that my favorite pastime is sticking Loki in places he doesn't belong, so I tried my hand at this. It did spin a bit out of control, what was meant as a drabble has evolved into a multi chapter fic, which I'm pretty excited to write if I'm honest.
> 
> My rambling aside, I hope she likes it despite the fact that we envision the relationship between these characters somewhat differently.


End file.
